Will We Ever Speak Dolphin? and 130 more science questions answered NewScientist Will We Ever Speak Dolphin? and 130 more science questions answered More questions and answers from the popular ‘Last Word’ column edited by Mick O’Hare First published in Great Britain in 2012 by Profile Books Ltd 3A Exmouth House Pine Street Exmouth Market London EC1R OJH www.profilebooks.com 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Copyright © New Scientist 2012 The moral right of the authors has been asserted. All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book. A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN (paperback): 978 1 78125 026 6 ISBN (book club hardback): 978 1 78125 093 8 eISBN: 978 1 78125 027 3 Text design by Sue Lamble Margin illustration by Brett Ryder Typeset in Palatino by MacGuru Ltd [email protected] Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Chatham, ME5 8TD Anyone undertaking any of the activities described in this book does so at their own risk. No responsibility for any consequences, however caused, will be accepted by the New Scientist, Profile Books or the individual contributors. Brought to you by KeVkRaY Contents Introduction 1 Food and drink 2 Our bodies 3 Plants and animals 4 Shaken or stirred? 5 Domestic science 6 Our planet, our universe 7 Feeling OK? 8 Troublesome transport 9 Sporting life 10 Best of the rest Index Introduction Ian Fleming, the author of the James Bond spy novels, really didn’t know what he had started when he decided the fictional spy should order his vodka martinis shaken, not stirred. First it became one of the most famous catch-phrases in movie history. Now it’s become the subject of an entire chapter in this latest edition of science questions and answers from New Scientist. Just why did Bond want that martini stirred? The debates have raged long and hard down the years but now we think we’ve cracked it. Turn to page 88 for the full lowdown on the science of Bond’s iconic tipple. We think there’s very little more to learn now, but conceit is the downfall of any scientist, so if anybody out there knows better our contact details are below. And not only did James Bond enjoy his martinis, he also had – according to the screenplay of Thunderball – a double first in Oriental Languages from Oxford University. So if he hadn’t been a fictional character, he’d have been just the person to answer the title question of this book (see p. 85). As an accomplished linguist, if Dolphin could be learned, he’d have learned it – not least because it would have come in handy in The Spy Who Loved Me. It’s surely not improbable that undersea megalomaniac and archetypal Bond villain Karl Sigmund Stromberg had been learning Dolphin as part of his evil plan to relocate the human species underwater, so Bond too would surely have swotted up to ensure he could foil yet another madman. Unlikely, you say? Well, it’s perhaps not as improbable as the fact that in more than twenty movies Bond has been shot at more times than any other fictional hero, yet never taken that final, fatal bullet. Check out just how improbable on p. 102. Of course, there’s more to this book than a fictional spy and his foibles. Do you know why we become hoarse when we shout, whether it’s better for the planet if we all become vegetarians, or why we want to urinate more in cold weather? Well we didn’t either until somebody bothered to get in touch and ask us and then somebody else gave us the answer. The Last Word column in New Scientist magazine – which gave birth to this book and its bestselling predecessors including Does Anything Eat Wasps? and Why Don’t Penguins’ Feet Freeze? – has been answering everyday science questions from the general public since 1994. You can ask one yourself or, even better, answer one by buying the weekly magazine or visiting us online at www.newscientist.com/lastword. This volume, of course, contains all new material save for a small number of the answers at the start of Chapter 4 which provide background science to the vodka martini story. Now grab your vodka, your vermouth and your olive jar and read on. And after you’ve shaken or stirred do let us know if you disagree with our cocktail of conclusions. There may still be another chapter waiting to be written on Bond’s favourite drink. Mick O’Hare Special thanks – in no particular order – to the following for their help in producing this book: Richard Fisher, Melanie Green, Eleanor Harris, Judith Hurrell, the New Scientist subs and art teams, Jeremy Webb, Beverley De Valmency, Paul Forty, Valentina Zanca, Andrew Franklin, Stephanie Pain, Ben Longstaff, Runyararo Chivaura, Dirk Kuyt, Nick Heidfeld, Sally and Thomas. 1 Food and drink Squeaky cheese Why does halloumi cheese squeak against your teeth as you eat it? Nikos Skouris Nicosia, Cyprus This is an example of the stick-slip phenomenon. The cheese is rubbery and as your teeth begin to squeeze it, the halloumi deforms with increasing resistance until it loses its grip and snaps back to something like its original shape. At the point where the slipping stops it regains its grip and the process repeats, commonly at a frequency near 1000 hertz, give or take an octave or two. The vibration produces a squeal of corresponding frequencies that may vary with the circumstances, such as whether the cheese has oil on it. Squeaky halloumi is enough to make some people’s toes curl, like fingernails dragged down a blackboard. This is because such sounds often warn of injury – a broken bone grating – or an unpleasant sensation, such as sand in your teeth, or stone abrading fingernails. Probably long before our ancestors evolved into apes, they developed an inherited distaste for such noises and the associated sensations. It was likely an evolutionary adaptation to their way of life; those who did not respond to the signals tended to have shorter and less productive lifespans. Jon Richfield Somerset West, South Africa Cereal cement My two favourite breakfast cereals are Shreddies and Weetabix. When I’ve finished, the remnants in the bowl look similar, but I can always tell which was which: a Shreddies bowl can be washed up quite easily, while Weetabix clings like cement. Why the difference? Frank Johnson Birmingham, UK As a lifelong consumer of Weetabix, I feel qualified to answer this question. Both Shreddies and Weetabix contain a high proportion of starch, which can form an adhesive paste with water. This phenomenon is well known to bookbinders because it is used to make paper. Starch consists of a mixture of amylose and amylopectin, polymers that can absorb water to form a gel. As the gel dries, the water is expelled and bonds between the molecular chains reform, creating a semi-crystalline ‘cement’ which will adhere to any adjacent surface. This effect is much more noticeable with Weetabix than Shreddies simply because Weetabix is made of fine flakes of cereal compressed together, while Shreddies are made from longer strands. That means Weetabix has a greater surface area of adhesive in contact with the bowl, making it more difficult to clean. Chris Sugden London, UK I have no experience of Shreddies, but am familiar with the Weetabix problem. So while I don’t know the difference between the properties of the two cereals, I can give this advice to your correspondent. Soak the used Weetabix bowl for a few minutes, rather than a few seconds, before cleaning – it makes it much easier. David Purchase Bristol, UK A spoonful of sugar… If I leave my jar of brown sugar standing overnight, the surface crystals will bind together and I will need a spoon to scrape and loosen them so I can pour the sugar out. What property of brown sugar causes the surface to bind together so quickly? Peter Franks Sydney, Australia This question was really nostalgic for me. Many years ago I collaborated with David Bagster, a chemical engineer at the University of Sydney, whose research career was dedicated to the wayward properties of unrefined sugar and how to overcome them to allow it to be handled in bulk.